Kisara's Shadow
by Relinquished
Summary: [AE/AU] Legend states there are four White Dragons. The first, hidden in the soul of the girl Kisara, was sealed two years ago in the battle with Zork Necrophades. Now the second has appeared in the ruins of Kul Elna and his destiny will change the course of their lives forever. Seth/Ryou Atem/Ryou; Ancient Egypt!Euroshipping Fragileshipping
1. Chapter 01

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh. But this story is mine, just a revived version of something I started six years ago.

Same changes as before: Atem, Mahad and Shada aren't dead. During the battle with Bakura, Mahad sealed part of his Ka with his Magician, so it retains the new form it took after he died (only that he isn't dead). Ryou is albino (think same colouring as Kisara).

* * *

**Blue Eyes White Dragon: Kisara's Shadow**

_Legend spoke of majestic and powerful soul-creatures known as the Blue Eyes White Dragon, fused with the souls of four unique individuals. For centuries, wielders of these soul-creatures have sought out the power of even one of these dragons, with very limited success – save one._

_The first Blue Eyes White Dragon was discovered on the streets of the capital by two of the Six High Priests: Seth and Shada. The girl who possessed the soul of the Blue Eyes White Dragon, Kisara, was brought to the palace and cared for by Priest Seth. He and Kisara faced the evil powers of Zork, which resulted in Kisara's death and the Blue Eyes White Dragon to be sealed away for eternity. Pharaoh Atem defeated Zork and Seth's father, Priest Akhenaden, was freed from his control. There were no casualties amongst the Six Priests and the kingdom continued on._

_Two years later, amongst the ruins of Kuru Eruna, the second Blue Eyes White Dragon is found, deep in the heart of a mysterious albino boy._

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

Within the depths of the palace, Pharaoh Atem was holding court with the assembly of officials, surrounded by the Six High Priests flanking him on either side of the throne. Around each of their necks was the Millennium Item they possessed, the gold from which they were made glinting in the torchlight. Together, the seven of them made an intimidating sight and the silence in the throne room was as much out of fear as it was reverence.

The morning's business seemed at an end and the sun was nigh at its peak. Several of the lower officials standing before the dais had already begun shifting restlessly on the spot, trying to hide their movements under the folds of linen. The Pharaoh noticed all of this from his place on the throne high above them and looked around at the Priest.

"Is there anything else we need to address in this morning's assembly?"

The Priest on the far right from the throne stepped out of his place and knelt in front of the throne, the gold headdress glinting. Atem nodded to him in acknowledgement.

"You may speak, Mahad."

"My liege," Mahad began, his voice carrying through the cavernous room effortlessly. "There have been reports of movements from the ruins of Kul Elna. Not enough to be considered a militaristic threat, but I believe enough to be worth sending a search party to survey the area."

A knife could have cut the tension that followed as the Priests recalled the last time they had overlooked Kul Elna as a threat. The kingdom was still recovering from the war that had ensued and those involved had yet to forget the horrors they had experienced in those dark years. The silence was broken by a condescending snort from the tall Priest in blue shadowing the throne on the left. Atem shot Seth a warning glare before turning back to address Mahad.

"I hear your request and shall grant you, Mahad, permission to lead the first squadron on an investigative mission to Kul Elna." He motioned to the Priest on his far left, a man with glyphs tattooed across his otherwise hairless head. "Shada shall accompany you."

"Yes, my liege," Shada replied with a bow.

"Bring back anything or anyone suspicious."

"As you wish, my Pharaoh."

* * *

Court was dismissed from the throne room with a wave of Atem's hand. He and his Grand Vizier, Siamun, proceeded down the aisle towards the huge doors on the other side of the throne room, the Six Priests following. The lesser officials touched their foreheads to the floor as the Pharaoh passed, pressing their lips to the cold stone reverently. Mahad and Shada bowed as they parted ways from the procession and headed towards the stables.

The citizens of the capital watched on with interest, curious and excited murmurs filling the air, as Mahad and Shada led the first squadron through the dusty streets on horseback. They all wondered what the occasion was that required two of the Priests to be dispatched with such a large party. Shada did not miss the grim look on Mahad's face and the tense setting of his shoulders under the cloak.

"What is bothering you?"

Mahad drew his cloak around himself and frowned.

"The Ring has been sensing a powerful force and it grows as we approach Kul Elna. It isn't dark or evil – but not entirely pure either."

Shada nodded, leaving Mahad to his contemplations. The last time he had set out with a group of more than eight men, he had been out to face Bakura and almost had not returned alive. Isis had come to him before he had set out. She had told his future was bleak and to be careful. But he had won and returned alive – barely, but alive nonetheless – hadn't he? And he had increased the power of his Magician tenfold in the battle, even if he hadn't managed to defeat Bakura.

They reached the outskirts of Kul Elna before long. The village was a mess of rubble and ruin, without a single definable structure in the stretch of land that the village comprised. Mud huts with their interior structures burnt out stood like crumpled hollow husks piled on the streets. It was hard to believe that this had once been a den of thieves and tomb robbers, the village that had spawned so many evils and been the home of Bakura.

When they reached the centre of the small village, Mahad ordered the men to search every nook and cranny for any sign of life or irregularity. They responded with a salute and dispersed in every direction, scouring the ruins thoroughly. As he and Shada joined the search, the Millennium Ring around his neck warmed and began to tremble, emitting a soft glow. The needlepoints around the edges rose, lifting the Ring with it, tugging softly in the direction of a dilapidated hut to his right.

"Shada," he called over his shoulder as he moved to inspect the wreckage. The other Priest, having ventured farther out than he, cantered forward on his horse to join him. "The Ring has detected a presence."

Together, they moved aside the larger pieces of rubble that covered the remnants of the hut's doorframe, mindful of the fact that there was something potentially dangerous lurking in the shadows. The Ring continued to glow and tremble violently and, as more of the rubble was cleared away, the Ankh began to follow suit. Shada frowned.

"Whoever is inside must carry a soul-creature within them," he said softly, a hand moving to clutch the slender neck of the Ankh.

They heard a groan as the light of the sun streamed into the now open doorway and a pale arm came into view. Both Priests tensed.

"Who is there?" Mahad barked, a hand going to his sword.

Slowly, the rest of the person came into view. It was a thin, unusually pale youth dressed in rags, his silvery and waist-length hair dirty and matted. Soft blue eyes blinked several times to accustom to the sudden increase in lighting. Mahad felt the blood roaring in his ears as he took in the boy's appearance.

"Mahad." The urgency in Shada's voice snapped him out of his shocked reverie. The other Priest had the Ankh pointed at the new boy, eyes widened in disbelief and fear. "This boy – his soul-creature! It is impossible!"

"What is your name, boy?" Mahad asked, feeling his insides clench unpleasantly.

"Ryou, my lord," the boy rasped.

"I am Mahad and this is Shada. We are Priests of the Millennium Items and advisors to the Pharaoh." The boy fell to his knees quickly, throwing himself at their feet in fear. "You have something we require, Ryou, and we would like you to accompany us back to the palace."

"I know nothing, my lords," Ryou told them, desperation in his voice even muffled by the dirt floor. "I'm afraid I may not be useful to you."

"We will be the judge of that, I'm sure," Shada replied, lowering the Ankh and bringing his emotions in check. He waved a hand commandingly. "Now come."

* * *

Seth strode through the dimly lit hallways towards Mahad's chambers, mentally going over the strangeness of the message that had been sent to him by the older Priest. _There is something you must see._ The slave who had brought the message shakily informed him that that was the entirety of the message, relayed word for word without omissions, which only made it all the more curious. Whatever it was referring to, it was definitely enough to shake Mahad enough for him to relay such a curt and contextually lacking message.

He was surprised to find, however, that the Pharaoh was also present in the hallway outside Mahad's chambers, accompanied by Siamun. He bowed to Atem, the hand holding the Rod held across his breast in respect. Atem nodded to him, smiling warmly in welcome, while Siamun bowed. Mahad came out of his chambers and took a deep breath when he saw them.

"My liege, Seth, thank you for arriving so promptly."

"What have you found, Mahad?" Atem asked him. "What is so urgent?"

"It may come as a shock to you both," Mahad warned them, glancing at Seth. "But we discovered something – some_one_ – living in the ruins of Kul Elna."

He ushered them into his chambers and motioned for the slaves to shut the door on their way out. The lights had been lit in the side chamber and that was where he led them, to find that a temporary bed had been erected in the corner. A thin figure lay prone upon it, covered by a thin blanket. Even in the dim lighting both Seth and Atem could make out the silvery hair.

"Who is this?" Atem asked softly, aware of Seth's suddenly laboured breathing beside him. He approached the bed quietly until he could look upon the face of the person. A youth, no more than twenty, with pale hair and paler skin – a youth who looked like…

"_What's going on here?"_

_A pale girl lay curled up on the ground, shielding her face with her arms. The people circling her had been pelting stones and pebbles in her direction, calling her a witch and making a commotion. Behind him, Shada gave a cry of horror, the Ankh trembling violently._

"_Her Ka is so powerful," he cried. "What kind of power is this?"_

"Seth."

_He found her huddled on the bed, wrapped in a thin blanket, shaking as she looked on his shadow in the doorway with wide-eyed apprehension. He distinctly remembered those pale blue eyes, large and soulful, set in that thin, haunted face. It was the face that haunted his dreams, his memories of the White Dragon that had saved him as a child. He had finally found her._

"Seth!"

The Priest felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him once and jolting him from his recollections. Both Atem and Mahad were regarding him with a worried expression, glancing back and forth between the youth on the bed and him. They had, he knew, made the same connection. He cleared his throat and turned away from the bed, motioning for Mahad to continue.

"The boy's name is Ryou. We're assuming he is from a different nation, with his strange complexion and features. He tells me he was captured as a child and sold as a slave, before running away from his master two years ago and finding his way to the village ruins."

"But that's not all, is it?" Atem wanted to know. "You wouldn't have brought him here to see us if it were."

"No, my Pharaoh." Mahad cleared his throat uncomfortably, shooting a quick look in Seth's direction. Seth refused to meet his gaze. "The Ring detected him hidden in a ruined hut, shielded by rubble. Shada tested him with the power of the Ankh and found...my liege, the boy's soul houses the spirit of the White Dragon."

All eyes turned to Seth. He had frozen in place, mind reeling at the new information. No two people's soul-creatures were the same – it was fundamentally impossible – because each individual's habits and natures were different. He clenched his fists in an attempt to stop them from shaking and found they had broken out into a cold sweat. Atem took pity on him and turned back to Mahad.

"The last time the White Dragon appeared before us, it heralded a war that almost brought the kingdom to its knees," he said grimly. "Measures must be taken to control it, lest the events of last time reoccur."

"With all due respect, Pharaoh, the events of last time were due to the manipulations of the evil Zork Necrophades," Seth bit out. "The White Dragon was only a tool used to aid his cause."

_It wasn't Kisara's fault_, was the unspoken retort. Atem gave an assenting hum in his throat and nodded sympathetically.

"Nevertheless, something must be done," Mahad said. "My Pharaoh, you could give the boy into the care of one of the High Priests, who will monitor him for any adverse behaviours until we can determine whether or not he is a threat."

"We should remove the boy's soul-creature immediately," Siamun protested. "Why wait for it to become a threat?"

Seth felt a sudden unexplainable sense of anger burning in the pit of his stomach, directed at the Grand Vizier. Sealing away the boy's Ka when he was still so weakened would kill him – surely the man could see that? And anyone could see that the boy would not pose any possible threat, because the White Dragon was _not_ a creature of Darkness. If anything, a safe environment should be provided so that he would not feel as if he were being threatened – at least enough so that he would not unleash the Dragon against them. All he needed was a safe place to stay, just like Kisara had…

"I disagree, Pharaoh," Mahad said firmly. "The sealing will kill him."

"Then what would you suggest, Mahad?"

The Ring-bearer turned to him with eyes full of understanding and all at once Seth realised what he was about to suggest. He was about to disagree, when ghostly lips brushed his ear and that achingly familiar voice whispered: _help him, my lord. Like you helped me._ The protests died on his lips. He nodded, throat tight.

"Let him be given into Seth's care," Mahad suggested. "He has had close dealings with the first White Dragon. He is the best equipped to help the boy."

"Seth?" Atem looked to him questioningly. "Are you willing?"

_Help him, my lord. Help him._

They were distracted by a soft groan from the bed. The boy stirred with a frown, a hand twisting in the thin blanket. His eyes opened, blinking blearily up at them in confusion. _Pale blue eyes._ The breath caught in Seth's throat and a knife twisted in his chest.

_Kisara._


	2. Chapter 02

**Chapter Two**

* * *

_Kisara._

Seth stood, frozen, beside the bed as Ryou sat up slowly, blinking the heaviness of sleep from his pale eyes. The blanket fell away from his body as he sat up, exposing the pale skin of his neck and the part of his collarbone that wasn't covered by the rough tunic he had been changed into by the servants. The dirt and grime from years of hard living had been washed from his face and neck while he was asleep, but his silvery hair was still lank and matted. Slightly disoriented, he peered around at all of them in confusion.

"Where am I?" he rasped, voice hoarse from lack of use.

While Siamun gave instructions to the slaves standing outside the room to fetch a healer, Mahad began explaining the situation to the boy.

"You are in the palace of the Pharaoh."

"The Pharaoh!" Ryou's eyes widened in shock.

Thrusting the sheet away from himself, he struggled to get out of bed. As his feet touched the floor, his knees gave way, unable to support his weight after being abed for so long, and he pitched forward. Startled, Seth found himself with an armful of the boy, Ryou's large blue eyes staring up at him. Before he could come to his senses and help Ryou back into bed, Mahad and Atem had taken control and sat him back down firmly.

"Steady there, boy," Atem said, not unkindly. "You're not quite ready to walk around just yet."

Ryou's face was flushed with mortification and shame and he bowed as low as he could while still seated.

"My apologies, Pharaoh," he stammered. "I mean no disrespect."

Atem only smiled briefly in response, shaking his head to indicate that no offense had been taken on his part. Mahad cleared his throat loudly and all attention turned back to him. He glanced over at Seth once before continuing.

"As I was saying. You were found in the village of Kul Elna and brought here on the Pharaoh's orders." He crossed his arms, the prongs of the Ring clinking against each other with the movement. "Now we need you to answer a few questions."

"Anything, my lord."

"What were you doing in the village?"

Ryou fidgeted, both hands twisting in the thin blanket, expression uncomfortable. Mahad raised an eyebrow and waited for the response.

"I – I'm sort of a – well, actually I _am_ a slave, but I ran away from my master. Only because he was beating me!" he added defensively, as if his listeners would fault him for desertion. "I stole away in a merchant caravan headed for the capital, but they found me just as we were passing the village and threw me out."

"How long ago did you arrive at the village?"

"About a month?" Ryou shook his head. "Pardon me, my lord, but it was hard to keep track of dates when I was hiding and stealing away."

"It's fine," Atem told him, interrupting Mahad. Hearing movement in the corridor outside, the Pharaoh sighed. He turned back to Ryou and gave him a small smile. "You must be exhausted. The healers will have a look at your injuries. You will bathe and we shall continue this in the morning."

He paused to nod at Seth, who had backed away from the bed and moved to stand off at the side of the room away from Ryou, and left the room. The healers and servants outside bowed low to him as he passed, trailed by Mahad, Seth and Siamun. From the bed, Ryou could only blink in confusion at the brief and purposeless conversation he'd just had. Weren't they just reiterating information he had already told the man with the Ring? When the healers came in to inspect his wounds, he addressed the questions to them.

"Who were the other men?"

The robed man who had his arm and was checking the scrapes for infections was the one who spoke in a hushed tone.

"They were two of the Six High Priests – Seth and Mahad. The other one was the Grand Vizier Siamun, the Pharaoh's most trusted advisor."

"Priest Seth…he was the one with the staff?"

"Yes." The healer paused and looked up at him conspiratorially. "It's not my place to say, sir, but one should be careful around the Priests. Especially Priest Seth. They wield powers beyond one's wildest imagination."

"Ah…I'll…keep that in mind," Ryou replied uncertainly.

The healers continued to work in silence after that and Ryou decided against asking further questions, letting them clean and bind his scrapes. By the time the slaves had finished scrubbing his hair and body clean of months of filth and hard travel, he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. He welcomed the change of clothing and soft bed in a new room and fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow, dreaming of dark blue eyes and silver scales.

* * *

Mana skipped off towards her room, waving goodnight to her master and teacher, who waved back as she left, shaking his head fondly. As she disappeared around the corner, Mahad turned back to surveying the reflection of the moon in the fountain. They had been learning about the balance between light and dark and ultimately the balance of all things and Mana had taken to the debate with gusto and passion. Of that, at least, he was glad.

The now-familiar ache began in his chest, from the place where the Ring rested above his heart. They had all applauded him in his battle against Bakura. He had vastly increased his Magician's power in leaps and bounds and rebirthed it in a new form. But at what cost? In a desperate attempt to defeat Bakura on that dreadful day in the underground practice grounds, he had attempted to fuse his Magician – the creature of his Ka, his soul – with himself by pouring his life force, his Ba, into it. He had gotten the power he wanted, but he had weakened his body and shortened his lifespan greatly – and, in the end, Bakura had won. He had taken the Ring with him and it had been tainted by the evil in his heart.

He rested his hand on the Eye at the centre of the Ring, breathing deeply to try and soothe the pain. Atem still believed that Mahad had returned weakened, but whole. And then the final battle with Zork had soon followed. The High Priest could not have told him about the risks his bold feat had brought with it when the Pharaoh had needed him in those crucial moments. So he had pushed himself to the brink of death to retrieve the Ring and to aid his friend.

"Mahad," a deep, female voice called softly from behind him. He turned around to face the speaker, a tall woman with a golden headdress and kohl-lined eyes.

"Isis."

The High Priestess of the Torque came to stand beside him at the fountain, only reaching his ear in height. She also had a hand resting against the Eye at the centre of her necklace, which was emitting a soft glow. The Ring warmed and glowed in response under Mahad's hand, spreading into his chest. The ache gradually faded, leaving behind a pleasant numbness. She smiled at him gently.

"I sensed you were particularly unsettled tonight," she told him. "And you have been for a long while now."

"It isn't something others can help me with, Isis." He smiled back at her uncertainly, as if he were not used to the gesture. "But I thank you for your concern."

If he had thought Isis would back down from this argument so easily, he was wrong. Isis had not become High Priestess solely based on her intellectual and spiritual wisdom. She was firm and unyielding in her goals. Her dark blue eyes were piercing as they regarded him in silent contemplation. Mahad inwardly sighed.

"Do you remember when I battled against Bakura and I had increased the power of my Magician?"

"I do. You said you transferred some of your life force into the Magician." Her eyes narrowed. "You didn't just transfer _some_ did you?" When he didn't reply, the hand she had resting at her throat tightened and she gave a small gasp of shock.

"The truth was, I had tried to completely fuse myself with the Magician," he confessed. "And I had almost succeeded as well, except…at the last moment, something inside my heart did not want to die. I pulled away from the magic before it could take everything from me. I lived – and so did Bakura."

Isis placed a gentle hand on his arm, bracing him. "There is no shame in wanting to live," she told him firmly. "And what's done is done. Bakura has been defeated and Zork is gone from this world, Mahad – it's time you stopped blaming yourself for something out of your control."

He removed her hand from his arm gently, shaking his head. The eyes that looked back at hers were haunted and defeated, devoured by guilt and shame from the weaknesses he perceived in himself. The turmoil followed him, shadowing his every movement, and it had to have been chipping away at his mental defences ever since he had been taken off the battlefield. Isis brought a hand to the Torque, tracing the shape of the Eye with her fingertips.

"You cannot let this shadow your mind," she said. "You are allowing it to bring about self-doubt and cloud your better judgement. You _are_ honourable, Mahad, and you fulfilled every duty and obligation to the Pharaoh on the battlefield that day. Do _not_ ever think otherwise."

She lingered for a moment longer afterwards, watching him. When he did not make a move to reply or acknowledge her further, she sighed and left the courtyard. As the sound of her footsteps died away, Mahad turned from his study of the moon's reflection in the fountain and smiled sadly at the archway she had left through.

_Despite knowing all this,_ he thought, _I am now more aware of my weaknesses than ever._

* * *

Seth strode through the torch lit corridor that led to the library, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming in his left temple. He had not been able to get a decent moment of rest at all the previous night and the morning had been one disaster after another. Atem had excused him from the court's convening that morning, citing the need to settle the newcomer, so Seth had been unable to formally present his own opinions on the matter. Then the slaves had mistakenly returned the scrolls he had been studying from the previous night to the library, which was why he was heading there right now to get some work done – and hopefully avoid anymore disruptions to his morning. By the time he reached the doorway, his temple was throbbing slightly.

He crossed the threshold, making his way determinedly towards the shelves where his scrolls were located, when a cough sounded to his right. He turned to glare at the intruder, knowing perfectly well who it was.

"You don't need to hide anymore. I know you're there, Atem."

Atem appeared from behind the shelves of scrolls with an amused shrug.

"It wasn't a great hiding place to begin with."

Seth snorted derisively and began to pull out the scrolls he needed.

"You were never a good hider anyway."

"I thought I had gotten fairly adept at hiding," Atem replied with mock disappointment. "I did spend a lot of my childhood hiding from my teachers with Mana and Mahad. We found many great hiding places around here."

They fell silent, still uncertain of the camaraderie in their newfound kinship. They had met as liege and subject, building trust and respect on the foundation of their formal relationship. When the secret of Seth's birth and Akhenadin's treachery under the influence of Zork had come to light, their bond had been strained to the point of breaking. Even now, when everything had been settled and the kingdom had returned to normal, their manner around each other was still uneasy.

"Pharaoh…"

"Seth, please. When there's no one else around, there should be no need for formalities between us. We are cousins, after all." Atem tapped the shelf between them and motioned for Seth to follow him to the desks. "I actually have something I wish to discuss with you in private."

Atem placed both palms flat on the table top, regarding Seth with a suddenly serious expression. The Priest eyed him warily, leaving the scroll he was about to pick up on the shelf and standing across the table from him.

"Seth," Atem began. "In light of the events in recent years, I've come to realise that this is not going to be forever – _I'm_ not going to live forever. We came close to entering the Afterlife last time."

"What are you trying to say?" Seth said apprehensively, dreading what he was about to say. Atem reached out a hand to him, palm facing upwards in invitation.

"If something ever happens to me and I am taken before my time…no, Seth, listen," he said, cutting his cousin off before he could interrupt. "We will never know if someone like Bakura would ever appear again – and whether we will survive the next time one does. The future of the kingdom must be secured. Seth…I am going to name you my heir."

"No!" Seth stepped back, eyes widening in shock and dread. "Pharaoh – Atem – you _cannot_ name me as your heir! I cannot do it!"

He fell on one knee, one shaking hand raised to cover his face. His whole body shook with tremors, cold sweat turning his whole body suddenly clammy with fear and shock. He could _not_ become the heir – the _Pharaoh_! Not after what had happened with his father, his treachery. Atem and the other Priests may have forgiven them, but the people remembered. And the people would not be as willing to accept a traitor as their ruler, endorsed by Atem or not.

"This is my wish, Seth," Atem told him firmly, "and our will."

Seth raised his head to face the Pharaoh, expression tortured as he took in the use of the use of the royal address. Atem walked around the desk to where he was kneeling and reached out to grasp his shoulder bracingly. The expression in his dark eyes was kind.

"I won't ask for an answer at this moment. But I will ask you to seriously consider accepting my request. The kingdom needs an heir and there is no guarantee I will be able to provide that. You are my closest male relative and have proven yourself worthy of succeeding the throne. There is no better candidate."

He reached out a hand to help him up. Seth grasped the proffered hand after a moment's hesitation, prompting a smile from Atem, and got to his feet. They each went to different parts of the library – Seth to find the scrolls he needed and Atem to peruse historical texts that had been translated from slate to papyrus – and did not talk for a long while as they worked. The Priest could tell that his liege lord had something to say to him – they may not have grown up together, but they had worked together for long enough – but if Atem was not going to tell him, he was not going to be the one to ask. He had a good idea of what it was regarding, nonetheless.

"Seth." Atem rolled up the scroll he had been reading and looked at his cousin. "About the boy…"

"I have already agreed to take care of him, Atem, I don't see what more there is to discuss," Seth said stiffly.

"That." Atem glared at him. "That, in itself, is something to discuss. If you have any reservations about caring for this boy at all, you must let us know. Given what has happened in the past, it is understandable if you are uncomfortable…"

"Begging your pardon, _Pharaoh_, but I do not wish to discuss this further."

Seth gathered up his work and made to leave the library, jaw clenched. His headache had returned with a vengeance. If he didn't leave the room now, he was going to say something he would regret later. But Atem was not about to let him get away that easily.

"I know about Kisara."

The silence that followed was thick with tension that could have been cut with a dagger. Seth had not moved from where he was by the door – his back facing Atem, who had gotten to his feet in preparation for following him out. He could see how the Priest's back and shoulders had stiffened in anger at the mention of Kisara's name. It was a subject that was forbidden in Seth's presence, but Atem knew it was one that had to be broached at some point. He gestured widely with his arm.

"You're letting her memory devour you alive!" Frustrated that he was getting no response from Seth, Atem continued mercilessly. "Kisara is dead, Seth. You have to let her go. The boy will only serve as a constant reminder of her – you don't need that!"

Seth whirled around, furious.

"Maybe you should have thought of that _before_ you agreed with Mahad! Don't pretend to be concerned about my welfare when _you_ were the one who asked if I was willing to take the boy into my care! I never wanted to!"

"Then don't!" Atem took a deep, shuddering breath and continued in a calmer tone. "I can arrange for another to take care of him."

"You know I cannot." Seth's eyes were downcast. "Not when we know he houses the spirit of the White Dragon in his _ka_. I cannot let the power he possesses to fall into the hands of another. _She_ wouldn't want that to happen." He raised his head to meet Atem face to face and his eyes were narrowed with determination. "I have to do this, Atem. Please."

"Fine." Atem passed a hand over his face, sighing in resignation. "I cannot prevent you from going ahead with this if you are so determined. But if ever you feel as if you need help, please let me know."

"Thank you…Atem."

Atem watched him leave, a sense of foreboding and worry filling him. He had not personally met Kisara, but he had seen how her very existence had changed him – how agonising it was for Seth to watch, helpless, as she died before his eyes. He remembered the rage and grief that had consumed him on the battlefield and how it continued to torture him to this very day. But he also knew Seth was strong, resilient enough to overcome the pain of her loss and move on with his life. But now with Ryou's sudden appearance, with his pale complexion and hair, Atem was no longer sure. He had to do _something_ to ensure Seth's wellbeing.

He had to talk to Akhenadin.


	3. Chapter 03

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Ryou awakened to the sound of hushed voices by his bedside. He couldn't make out what they were saying through the sleep-induced haze that was clouding his mind, but he guessed that it was probably the healer come to check on him. His whole body was sore, his limbs were heavy and the cuts and scrapes either stung or itched under the linen bandages. He laid very still, feigning sleep until the initial discomfort faded enough so that his breath didn't catch if he so much as twitched.

Eventually, the fogginess in his mind receded enough so that he could differentiate the voices around him. There were two people, both male, but one with a deeper, mellower voice that he vaguely recognised. The other was higher pitched and slightly nasal, one that he knew belonged to the healer that had seen to his wounds yesterday. Rather than having to sit through another healing session – once the man started lecturing on medicinal lore, he could be quite a bore – he waited until the healer's voice disappeared with the receding footsteps.

"You don't have to continue pretending to sleep," the deep voice told him, sounding amused. "I've sent him away for now."

Flushing with embarrassment, Ryou opened his eyes to find Atem's dark violet eyes staring down at him, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He pulled the covers off his body, wincing as his muscles protested, but firm hands on his shoulders forced him back down. He wheezed when the sudden movement caused sharp bursts of pain to shoot out from the bruises on his torso and Atem winced.

"Sorry," he apologised.

"Pharaoh Atem…I am honoured that you will take me into your house," Ryou said politely, trying to imitate the flowery speeches he had heard his master use in formal events. "An honour someone as lowly as I do not deserve."

"You are our guest, Ryou. It is of no consequence." There was a pause, in which Ryou could see a twinkle in the Pharaoh's eyes. "And I would much prefer it if you spoke in the way that is most natural to you."

"Sorry – was I that bad?" Ryou flushed even darker while Atem chuckled.

"Court language is an art form – one that would take many years to master if one is not raised with its use," Atem told him kindly. "I am sure you will eventually learn to compose long, flowery speeches that will turn even my most outspoken courtiers green with envy. But, for now, address me as you would your former master."

Ryou's expression immediately darkened and the sudden change was not lost on Atem. From the healer's reports, the boy's numerous injuries were partly due to his journey to Kul Elna, but the majority of them were old wounds and reopened scars. There were scars from multiple lashes on the back of his calves and on his back, a slightly deformed elbow that would have been from a badly healed break at some point in his life. Callouses covered his palms and soles from hard labour and the crisscrossing of silvery lines up and down his arms told something of the boy's emotional and mental state at the time.

"Yes, master," Ryou murmured demurely, lowering his gaze so that his long hair obscured his features in a subservient fashion. His shoulders slumped visibly, so much that Atem was disgusted at what the very exchange suggested.

"No, don't call me that," he snapped. Ryou jumped in shock. "I am _not_ your master, Ryou – and you are no longer anyone's slave."

"But you are the Pharaoh."

Ryou sounded completely bewildered. He shrunk back when Atem began pacing in frustration, a deep frown marring his brow under his diadem, not understanding why the Pharaoh had asked him to do something and yet gotten so mad when he did. Sensing that Ryou was not following his train of thought, Atem sighed and folded his arms thoughtfully, one hand propping his chin.

"When I said to address me as you would your former master," he began slowly, picking his words, "I said so under the impression that the form of address your former master commanded was one of respect. I had not realised that was not the case and I apologise. So what I meant to say is that I would like our relationship to be based on respect and trust, but there is no need for formalities when there are no others around to remark upon it."

He paused, watching Ryou process the information. The boy frowned for a long while and lay very still, undoubtedly wondering how he should react to the Pharaoh apologising to a slave like him. Just as Atem was beginning to worry whether his declaration had frightened him, a tentative smile found itself onto Ryou's lips and he blinked up at Atem.

"I would like that, Pharaoh. I would like that very much indeed."

Atem returned his shy smile with a warm one, reaching out to clasp the boy's shoulder in a comradely fashion.

"Excellent. Now, I will have the servants bring you a hot meal, you must be famished."

* * *

_He recognised this place._

_He recognised the fallen pillars, the crumbled architecture and the wide expanse of courtyard littered with debris from the wreckage. The sun pounded on his back, heating the stones beneath his feet so that they burned through his clothed feet. On the far end of the courtyard, there was a large stone tablet, its surface blank. A crumpled figure lay in front of it._

_He recognised this scene with dread. He started running towards the figure, aware of the shadow growing at his back, its breath sending chills that went straight through his bones. His limbs felt sluggish, as if he were once again a child running through the muddy banks of the Nile. No matter how long he ran for, he could not reach the tablet. The shadow grew larger, until he could feel it overtaking him, swooping downwards and over the tablet, encasing it and the person in a dark cloud. Desperation was replaced by a fear that froze his body in place and he could only stand and watch as the cloud swirled and expanded until it burst like an overfilled waterskin. He raised a hand to shield himself from the backlash of power, crashing to the ground as it threw him off his feet._

_As the ringing in his ears ebbed, a terrible scream rose from the place that had been the centre of the dark cloud. Terror clawed at his senses, clenching around his throat and chest until he couldn't breathe. He knew that voice – knew what the sound of that drawn-out agony meant. He scrambled to his knees, panic and desperation taking away control over his body as he pitched forward and grasped at ground with his fingers helplessly._

_Suddenly, the screaming ceased and the silence rang even louder in his ears. He stopped struggling to get to his feet and his hands reached up to tear at his hair as the first sobs wracked his body. He didn't have to look to know what had happened to the person who had screamed. He didn't have to look to know that the stone tablet was no longer blank. He was dimly aware of his lips moving in a continuous mantra even as his body threatened to heave and convulse with endless tears._

_Nononononononononononono…NO!_

"KISARA!"

His eyes shot open and he bolted into a sitting position, mouth contorted as her name tore itself from his lips. Cold sweat matted his brow and trickled down his body in rivulets, sending chills over him in the cold night air. As he reached up a hand to scrub at his face, he saw his whole body was weak and trembling. He clenched his fist in an attempt to stop it.

It was that dream again. It started out differently each time, but it always ended in the same way – Kisara, dead and he helpless to prevent it. The image of her lifeless body in a crumpled heap by the stone tablet bearing the carving of a roaring dragon was burned into his mind and soul, haunting him in dreams and in waking.

The first light of dawn touched the horizon outside his window. He could hear the faint sounds of the servants stirring in the grounds below, signalling the beginning of another day. Today, he was to finally face what he had been dreading these past two days. He threw off the bed sheets and called for his body servant.

* * *

Ahkenadin glanced up from the scroll he was poring over at the sound of hurried footsteps in the corridor outside. A moment later, a servant was kneeling in the doorway, announcing the arrival of the Pharaoh. The Priest's servants already in the room dropped to their knees and pressed their foreheads to the floor as Atem strode into the room. He nodded shortly to the servant who had announced him and the man shuffled into an inconspicuous corner of the room to await further orders. Akhenadin walked out from behind his desk and bowed to his nephew.

"Pharaoh, this is a surprise," he said. "Are you here to discuss the morning's court business?"

"Later, perhaps." Atem dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "I'm here to talk to you about something else altogether."

He moved over to the window, hands clasped behind his back as he surveyed the view. From here, he could see the seven towers traditionally belonging to the Pharaoh and the Six High Priests holding all the stone tablets sealed with _Ka_-creatures that had been accumulated over the years. The practice of collecting and sealing the creatures into tablets had begun with his father and the creation of the Items, but prior to that the towers had been places of worship and duties for their respective owners. Up until the events of two years ago, Atem had little reason to venture into the Pharaoh's tower unless it was by his father's expressed wish, but he had since been loathe to even step inside. The hundreds of tablets set inside reminded him too much of the horrors the creation of the Items had wrought and just how easy it was to be lured into a path of darkness with the promise of power.

"What did you wish to discuss with me, Pharaoh?" Akhenadin asked, not having moved from his side of the room. His expression was that of polite respect, but his eyes were wary.

"I am sure you have heard, uncle, that a boy was brought back from Kul Elna and put into Seth's care," Atem began. When Akhenadin murmured in assent, he continued without turning around. "You should understand, then, why I am concerned about this."

"I have heard…some news," the Priest replied slowly. "And I believe I may understand the reason for your worries to some extent."

When Atem turned around, his expression was grave.

"Two years ago, when the girl – Kisara – was found, I understand that you were the one who managed to successfully have the her unleash the White Dragon. I need to know how you did it."

"Pharaoh!" Akhenadin visibly balked at the request and backed away. "I must strongly advise against this!"

"Uncle, you must understand that I cannot risk the safety of my people with a creature as destructive as the White Dragon." Atem took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, folding his arms over his chest. "I am not looking to kill the boy – I just want to know if there is a way to seal the Dragon away in case someone has designs upon it that would be potentially detrimental to my people."

"Pharaoh…" Akhenadin sighed. "There is a chamber underneath my tower that is connected to the dungeons – I used to bring prisoners there and they would be pitted against each other to fight to the death. The idea was that fear and anger increases the strength of a _Ka_ creature, so I put the girl in a situation where she was in mortal peril in order to summon the White Dragon in the strongest form. She did – eventually – but not without cost to her health. The White Dragon was never sealed."

"Are you saying…there is no safe way?" He took Akhenadin's silence as confirmation and began pacing back and forth in frustration. "There must be a way – the Items have been extracting these creatures from people for years and sealing them away! Surely there must have been survivors of the process? The Priests?"

Akhenadin shook his head.

"The Priests summon our creatures with the DiaDhank and each summoning consumes _Ba._ The Items we hold protect us by buffering the depletion of our _Ba_ and lending the necessary power to control the monsters we summon – without it, we would not be able to use the DiaDhank. The boy has no DiaDhank, no Item – and it is unwise to give him access to either if you have any reservations."

Atem dropped into the chair behind Akhenadin's desk, burying his face in his hands. He was not unfamiliar with the way the Items and the DiaDhank worked, but there was still much to learn about their powers. In his father's day, Akhenadin had been the foremost expert – if he did not know, then no one would – but his uncle had torn himself away from his research in fear that he would once again be tempted by the darkness that simmered beneath the depths. After his possession and attempted revolt against Atem, Akhenadin had thrown himself into affairs of state, refusing to have anything to do with the Items or _Ka_ creatures, even going so far as to cease wearing the DiaDhank, which he kept locked safely away in his tower.

"I don't want to kill the boy when he hasn't done anything," Atem told him, voice slightly muffled. "I don't want to be the kind of ruler that kills as soon as he perceives a threat."

"You are a good Pharaoh and a kind ruler," Akhenadin replied. "There are other things you can do – other measures you can put in place – while we solve this problem."

"You're absolutely right." Atem stood and clapped his hands together. The servant by the door shuffled forward on cue. "Send a message to the healers and to Seth. Until further notice, the boy shall be restricted to the palace grounds and be supervised at all times. We must limit the area of influence until we can ascertain that the White Dragon is no longer a threat."

"Very good, Pharaoh," the servant murmured.

* * *

The boy looked distinctly uncomfortable in the new – or, at least, clean – tunic and sandals he had been provided with. His wounds had healed enough for him to get out of bed, but the healers had insisted on confining him to the room he had been assigned. The room was small enough, with minimal distance between the bed, the table and the chamber pot so that he would not have to overexert himself. Still, when Seth entered the room, Ryou was sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching the covers underneath him as if he were afraid to stray too far away.

"You will have to leave the bed at some point," Seth told him pointedly as he set down the scrolls he had brought with him on the table.

Ryou bowed uncertainly, pushing himself to a standing position. When he straightened, his hands were twisting together in front of him as if he did not know what to do with them and he was biting his lower lip. The Priest finished arranging the scrolls and looked directly at the boy.

"I am High Priest Seth. I serve the Pharaoh as his representative in the courts of justice, along with High Priests Mahad and Kalim. The Pharaoh has placed you in my care." He held up a slate to show Ryou. "Your duties will include various administration tasks such as filing, copying and sorting, and will eventually include fetching and sending messages on my behalf as soon as your condition allows."

He paused to let the instructions sink in. To his credit, Ryou showed no outward signs of intimidation, although his eyes had widened a fraction in surprise. After a moment, he cleared his throat.

"Are there any questions so far?"

He expected Ryou to simply remain silent and thus was surprised when the boy finally opened his mouth to speak.

"My lord…" the boy's face darkened with embarrassment. "I cannot read."

Seth was silent, but otherwise did not seem fazed. He set down the slate and pushed it towards the boy, handing him a reed brush.

"I surmised as much." He motioned for Ryou to sit and picked up one of the scrolls. "You will simply have to learn as you go."

"But…I do not wish to waste your time," Ryou protested. Even so, he took the brush obediently and sat down at the table, staring at the slate in front of him.

"Believe me," Seth snorted derisively, "you not knowing how to do so is more troublesome than having to teach you. At least we will be doing something productive while I'm here."

He spread the scroll and laid it on the table. Ryou automatically shifted in his seat to get the best view of the contents, even if he did not understand any of the symbols. Seth reached over and set an ink pallet down next to the boy's slate and pointed to the first glyph, reading it aloud. He made Ryou repeat it after him and then trace it onto his slate over and over until he could do it without referring to the scroll. They went through the first few glyphs in that fashion, working diligently until Ryou's hand started to cramp and he dropped the brush with a wince. Spots of ink splattered over the slate and the tabletop.

"I'm sorry!" He picked up the brush, but Seth took it from him and placed it carefully aside.

"It's fine. We'll move on to something else." He saw how miserable Ryou looked and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his strained eyes. "Really, it's fine. Cramping is unavoidable when you aren't accustomed to writing."

Ryou nodded mutely and stared at his hands. Seth could see that the right hand was still twitching slightly, so he reached out and took it between his own. When he began to press gently against the palm, Ryou hissed under his breath and winced.

"Whenever your hand cramps up like this, just massage it gently until it goes away," Seth told him. "Surely you would have had this before, when your previous master set you duties involving hard labour."

The boy pulled his hand away suddenly, twisting in his seat to turn his back on the Priest. His long hair hid his face from view.

"I…I haven't been that kind of slave for a long time," he muttered.

Seth stared at him, comprehension dawning on his face and revulsion bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He knew pleasure slaves were common amongst the lower classes, especially in towns further from the capital where the Pharaoh's influence was not as strong, but it was an issue that mainly concerned the womenfolk. The idea of young boys being subjected to such treatment was sickening. He clenched and unclenched his fists to relieve some of the tension in his body.

"I disgust you, my lord," Ryou whispered, voice cracking. He was burning with shame. "I am just a slave and I am unclean – "

"No." The boy glanced up in shock at his vehement denial. "There is no shame in your past – you were merely the victim of circumstance. There are no slaves working for us – the Pharaoh and I both abhor the practice."

A part of him wanted to share the secret of his past with Ryou, to let the boy know that he had not been all that much different, once upon a time. He knew what it was like to be impoverished, to starve for days on end and to not know where you were going to end up from one day to the next. But he caught himself before he could tell him. Those were private memories. And he had never been a slave – it was presumptuous to think that he could truly understand what Ryou had been through.

"Thank you, my lord."

Ryou's head bowed in gratitude and Seth had to admire the boy's pride and how it prevented him from weeping, as most would have done already. In deference to that pride, Seth diverted the topic back towards work. He picked another scroll, one of the many volumes of judicial case studies that had been recorded by court scribes and preserved in the library, and started explaining the many civil laws that governed the kingdom. A small smile touched his lips as Ryou's eyes widened with interest, but he quickly smothered that and continued with the lesson.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for the continued interested in this fic, despite it having been abandoned for the better part of six years. Thank you to the people who wrote reviews - you are the reason why I decided to pick this story back up again. Because the readership has most definitely changed from when I was last active in the YGO fandom, I would appreciate it if readers could drop a line to let me know what they think about how everything is going. My style has definitely changed in the last six years and many (if not all) the people I used to read and write with have all moved on, so getting to know those of you who remain would really be great. Thank you again and please review!


	4. Chapter 04

**Chapter Four**

* * *

When court convened that morning, Atem was met with grim faces. While his mind steeled itself for bad news, his heart sank at the thought of yet another possible catastrophe plaguing his kingdom. They had barely survived the fight against Zorc – some with little more than half their lives and some with lingering trauma that haunted them to this day. Akhenadin flatly refused to use the Eye, or to Summon creatures from the tablets in his Tower; Mahad recklessly threw himself into any task given to him, regardless of the danger to his own wellbeing; and Seth – Seth still woke up some nights screaming himself hoarse. He was of half a mind to plea illness and return to his rooms, but Siamun's serious expression beneath his veil rooted him to the throne.

"High Priest Shada," Siamun intoned. "You may now bring the first order of business before the Pharaoh."

Shada bowed and stepped forward, the Ankh swinging around his neck.

"Pharaoh, after the discovery of the boy, we have been regularly scouring the village ruins for any further signs of life or movement," Shada reported. He exchanged nods with Mahad. "Thus far, we have not found anymore living beings, but there has been one…_unsettling_ discovery."

"Unsettling?" Atem leaned forward in his seat, grip on the rests of the throne tightening fractionally. "Go on, Shada."

"The underground temple that housed the Stone upon which the Items were forged has shown signs of non-human activity. The Ring detected shifts in the energy waves and the Ankh hears the voices of those spirits who have not been laid to rest, haunting the temple and the Stone."

"But we made sure the souls of the sacrificed were properly buried," Siamun protested. "The proper rites and formalities were performed and a proper burial was given for those who had been left above. There should be no reason for their continued anger."

Mahad bowed and stepped out next to Shada. He lifted a hand to the centre of the Ring around his neck.

"Pharaoh. The Ring detects the magic of the other Items and, with sufficient training and application, those who have strong _Ka_. Since fusing my _Ba_ with the creature of my soul, I have experienced leaps and bounds with my utilisation of the power of the Ring. It showed me the truth behind the creation of the Items before – and now it has shown me the coming of great danger.

"We have sensed the spirit of Bakura, the Thief, and his _Ka_ creature, the dark spirit of Diabound, stirring beneath the Stone."

Shouts of shock, horror and disbelief broke out at the declaration. Isis pressed a hand to her chest, fingers grazing the edges of her Necklace as if hoping it would grant her a vision to contradict the news. Karim's grip on the Scales grew so tight his knuckles turned white and his nostrils flared with laboured breaths. Akhenadin visibly staggered backwards, his remaining eye wild. Atem slumped back against the high back of his throne, shocked.

"_Bakura?_"

"_Diabound?_"

"Impossible!" Seth shouted over the din. He brandished the Rod at Shada and Mahad. "Bakura perished! We all witnessed him turn to dust before our eyes!"

"Be that as it may, Seth," Shada replied, unfazed by the other's anger, "it is what we saw. We are willing to swear by and attest to it before the Scales."

Seth glanced at the Scales in Karim's hands with narrowed eyes. Atem could see him struggling internally with the facts being laid before him and the overwhelming desire to believe otherwise. He understood the feeling. When they all looked to him, as the Pharaoh, for a decision, he clamped down on the conflicting thoughts and emotions raging through him, forcing himself to think. Shada and Mahad's observations were still in their early stages, products of senses and stirrings only. There was not much they could do until the threat revealed itself to them, except to keep a keen eye on developments in preparation.

"If there is one thing to be learned through our previous dealings with the King of Thieves," he began carefully, keeping an eye trained on Seth, "it is that we must never take things at face value. Although we do not have concrete proof that Bakura has indeed survived the battle, we also cannot rule out that possibility."

"It is as you say, Pharaoh," Akhenadin agreed. "Furthermore, the possibility of Mahad sensing Bakura's presence through the Ring is a very real one – considering the Thief had taken possession of the Ring for a considerable length of time before, it may have attuned itself to him."

Atem felt, more than saw, Mahad flinch. It was nothing more than the truth, but to Mahad, it was as if Akhenadin was laying bare his greatest failure. It also raised the fear that the power of the Ring may have been tainted by its association with Bakura, putting all of them, especially Mahad, in danger of evil influences. Atem suppressed the urge to give his childhood friend a sympathetic glance, knowing that it would do nothing to assuage his guilt, and instead focused on the issue at hand.

"What we must do now is to cover all bases." He turned to Shada. "Keep men posted in the village at all times – you may determine the number yourselves. They are to report daily of any and all activities that occur. One of you must lead patrols there at regular intervals to personally inspect the situation and report directly to me. This will begin immediately."

"Yes, Pharaoh."

Shada bowed. Atem then addressed them all.

"For the purposes of training, I will henceforth reinstate the practice of Duelling," he continued. "This is, of course, restricted to those of us who wield the DiaDhank – as well as any soldier who is able to harness and control the power of their own _Ka_ creature to a predetermined capacity."

This announcement was not met with any enthusiasm and Atem had not expected it to either. Akhenadin had renounced his DiaDhank after the battle was over, citing a desire to never come into contact with the power to control souls ever again. The last time Mahad had Duelled, he had used up all but a thread of his _Ba_ to fight Bakura and no one knew if he had enough power left. Seth could not even bring himself to enter his Tower, let alone call upon the powers that lay within. Karim, Isis and Shada had barely managed to survive. They had all but exhausted their powers, some more so than others, and were tired of fighting.

"It is necessary," Atem said firmly, before anyone could voice a protest. "We understand that no one wishes for it to come to this, but if a battle is what transpires from these events, we _must_ be prepared."

As a collective, the Six High Priests bowed before him, the silence in the chamber sending up an eerie atmosphere.

* * *

The weeks passed by relatively without incident. Ryou's injuries healed slowly, not from the lack of expertise or care on the healers' parts, but due to the sheer number of them and the length of time for which he had had some of them. The main concern was the years of starvation and beatings he had endured, which had resulted in his weak constitution and inability to keep down heavier foods for the first week or so. He also tired easily and so it a suitable daily routine was suggested by the healers and agreed upon by Seth.

In the morning, the first hour past dawn was for the healers monitor his progress. Seth was usually present for these sessions, staying for most of the morning after they had left. The next several hours of the morning were when Seth conducted lessons in scribe's work – reading, writing and basic sums – until court was in session for the day. When he left, Ryou had two hours of his own free time, in which he usually rested in his room to avoid the midday heat. After court, around mid afternoon, the healers returned. He was left to his own devices for the rest of the evening and usually took the time to practice his lessons.

It was a simple routine that put no undue strain on him and he soon found himself settling in quite comfortably. As a slave, he had never been treated with any care or kindness and found it to be daunting at first to speak to Atem or any of the High Priests who came to visit him in the evenings. He was particularly nervous around Akhenadin, whom he knew to be the Pharaoh's uncle. The elderly Priest carried with him an air of austerity that commanded respect, but who was also rather intimidating, especially when he was present as the healers worked their craft in the afternoons. He would stand a safe distance away from the bed, arms crossed and golden Eye glinting underneath the hood of his cloak, silently observing Ryou as the boy reluctantly allowed the healers to apply salves and balms to his wounds. He rarely spoke directly to Ryou except to greet him as he walked in or out of the room and Ryou was not entirely sure what he had done to warrant his attention.

As a matter of fact, Ryou had begun to notice just how differently he was being treated by the Pharaoh and the Priests. He had had several of his acquaintances from his days a slave arrested by soldiers and taken into custody, but none of them had made it out without a severe beating at the very least. Yet here he was, a runaway slave, being treated as a guest in the Pharaoh's house, given healing, food and even an education – such things had been beyond his wildest imaginations a few scant weeks ago. When he sat down to a meal, it was brought by others – servants, not slaves, especially when Seth or Atem were around – and he was encouraged to eat his fill. The Pharaoh would question him intently about himself, his past and whatever else interested him at the time, gently prodding until Ryou finally opened up and talked.

He couldn't help but think there was some other reason for this special treatment. Perhaps they pitied him and wanted to give him work and that was why Seth was teaching him letters and sums? Or perhaps they had something else planned for him, once he had recovered his health, and those special plans had to be kept secret until the appropriate time? Either way, for better or for worse, he was not going to mind whatever it was they wished to do with him in the future – they had, after all, rescued him from death by starvation out in the ruins. It was a life debt he owed, but he was also immensely grateful to them.

The sight of Ryou's pale eyes brightening upon seeing Seth enter the chamber was a welcome change to the tension of the morning. Ryou was sitting at the table in his room, surrounded by scrolls, tablets and reed brushes, obviously in the middle of reviewing this morning's lessons, when Seth walked in and it took a moment before the boy remembered his manners and scrambled to his feet. Amused, the Priest waved him down and took the seat beside his.

"How are your studies progressing, Ryou?"

"Actually, my lord, I was having some trouble deciphering this glyph…"

Ryou wasted no time pushing the scroll across so that they could both see, pointing out the glyph in question, his expression eager. Seth took a moment to appreciate the boy's sheer enthusiasm for learning and found it a refreshing change from the mundane routine of his own duties. He had never taught anyone before, but he only had fond memories of the days when he himself was being taught by his father, though he had not known who Akhenadin was at the time.

"My lord?"

"My apologies." He cleared his throat and turned back to Ryou, who blinked up at him in confusion. "Do continue."

He was slightly unnerved when Ryou only watched him with a thoughtful expression on his face. He certainly had grown bolder over the past couple of weeks, now that he was certain he would not be abused or punished for speaking his mind – to an extent. Seth found that nothing could really escape the boy's notice; it was just a matter of whether or not he would choose to voice his observations. Finally, Ryou set down the scroll he had been talking about and focused on the Priest.

"It may not be my place, Lord Seth, but is something the matter?"

"A small issue. Not worth mentioning, truly."

"With all due respect, my lord: I don't believe you."

_Of course you wouldn't_, Seth thought, torn between amusement and chagrin. He found he wasn't even surprised at the revelation that he was fine with that – with being an open book to this boy who could barely read. He smirked.

"You wouldn't understand if I told you," he said. "Unless you've suddenly become an expert in politics."

Ryou flushed and mumbled something under his breath. Seth only caught the last few words, but it was enough to widen his smirk into a chuckle. The boy was not altogether content with being confined to his room and it was no wonder, considering he had not been allowed outside even once since his arrival. There was only so much one could learn from sifting through old scrolls, after all. Seth got to his feet suddenly, making Ryou jump up in surprise.

"My lord…?"

"Come," he ordered. When Ryou didn't move, he held out a hand imperatively. "You want to go outside, do you not?"

He felt a peculiar warming in his chest as Ryou tentatively placed his hand in Seth's larger one. He had a sudden realisation that this was the first time the boy had purposefully initiated contact with him as he pulled him to his feet. Ryou smiled up at him and he felt his smirk soften.

"Come on then."

* * *

Mahad stood in the shade of the large tree in the centre of the courtyard as he watched Mana practicing a translocation spell on a large, conveniently placed rock. So far, she had managed to shift it several inches to the left, but he was certain that was because she had physically pushed it, and once even vanished it completely. She had not been able to vanish the rock and materialise it in a different place, despite their spending the better part of the morning running through the theory behind the feat. He sighed when she slumped against the rock.

"Mana, you must concentrate."

"But Master! I don't understand why I'm still getting this wrong," she whined. Her spellbook appeared in her left hand and she began flicking through it at lightning speed. "I memorised the incantation and the motions perfectly, but I just can't make it reappear once it's gone!"

He sighed and shook his head in exasperation before walking over to her and placing both hands on the rock, palms flat.

"You need to visualise," he told her, closing his eyes. "Simply memorising the incantation and the gestures is not enough – you must see _everything_ in your mind's eye, down to the last shift."

She gaped as he murmured the spell under his breath, flicked his wrist and the rock disappeared, only to reappear again beneath the tree. In another breath, he had moved the rock back into its original position and was looking down at where she was sitting on the ground, hands lying limply in her lap.

"Give it another go, Mana."

She nodded and scrambled to her feet, brow furrowed in concentration. He watched her for a moment before a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. In the shadow of the archway was Atem, walking towards them. Mahad first made sure Mana was on task and made his way across the courtyard to meet with him, knowing what the Pharaoh wanted to say and ensuring she was out of earshot. He stopped and bowed as Atem approached.

"Pharaoh."

"Mahad," Atem acknowledged, nodding once. His eyes flicked over to Mana. "I see the lessons are progressing."

Mahad winced.

"Progress is relative," he admitted. "In Mana's case, it's considerable indeed if she manages to undo what mistakes she's already done."

They both flinched as a loud bang sounded, closely followed by Mana's startled yelp and a very ungraceful curse.

"Mana!" Mahad shouted, aghast, whipping around at the curse. "Language!"

When he turned around, he was met with the sight of Mana sitting in the middle of a cloud of dust and rubble, arms flung over her head to protect it from the falling debris. A fine grey layer coated her chestnut hair and the off-whites of her linens, giving her the appearance of having aged several decades. She coughed, sending up little bursts of dust as she did. Mahad pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache he knew was coming, torn between amusement and exasperation at his student's mishap. Beside him, Atem chuckled.

"Well, at least we know to rely on Mana when we need something obliterated," he teased. "That was quite a spectacle."

"Your Highness!" she exclaimed, getting to her feet and dusting herself off. "Did you see all of that?"

"Every last moment," he replied, grinning.

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. Mahad took pity on her and sent her back indoors to complete the remainder of her theoretical work. She bowed cheerfully and left, waving back at the two men as she ran back to the palace. They watched her retreating back with fond amusement.

"I'm glad some things never change," Atem said, a wistful note entering his voice. Mahad cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Pharaoh, this morning when you said you would reinstate the Duels…"

"I meant every word, Mahad," Atem interrupted. He met the Priest's eyes squarely. "I understand what you've been through, Mahad, in the past. Believe me, I wish I could spare you from this. But we are the only ones who can do something to protect the people."

_We're the only ones who can control them. _Mahad could tell from the shadows that lurked in Atem's determined eyes that the idea of the commoners learning to use their _Ka_ creatures terrified him. There was simply too much raw power lying dormant in the souls of their people that if they had all learned to use it, there would be no way to maintain stability in the kingdom. Mahad knew that, although he loathed to do so, Atem had to maintain his authority over his people for their own sakes as much as that of the ruling class. It was a lesson they had learned the hard way.

"I understand, Pharaoh."

Atem reached up and clasped Mahad's shoulder in a comradely fashion.

"Come, Mahad, we are like brothers, are we not?" He frowned. "You know you can always confide your worries to me, not as your Pharaoh, but as a friend."

"Your Highness…" Atem's former title slipped out before Mahad realised it and he coughed. "I mean, Pharaoh. Thank you for your concern, but I do not want to burden you with my worries until I have determined that they are indeed a legitimate source of concern."

"You have to understand, Mahad, that whatever is bothering you to this extent _is_ a source of great concern to us," Atem replied, emphasising his declaration with the royal plural to show his seriousness. "You have not been the same since that day, my friend, and we are afraid for your health and safety. Truly, is there something the matter?"

Mahad was sorely tempted to brush his concerns aside, but he found he could not. The man before him was his oldest friend, his brother, with whom he had gone to death and back time and time again. He trusted Atem implicitly and he knew the sentiment was returned. Whatever haunted him, Mahad knew that Atem, at least, would be able to understand.

"Very well then," he sighed. "This is all still mere speculation, but I…I believe I may know why the Ring has been detecting Bakura's presence."

* * *

Akhenadin rested his chin on his folded hands, propped on the table top, the Eye glinting in the red glow of dusk. He listened intently as Mahad outlined his theory on the reappearance of Bakura's aura, showing no expression on his weathered face even as his son was growing increasingly frustrated beside him. Seth was brilliant, but he was young and still bruised and bleeding from the scars left behind on his heart and soul. The elderly Priest was still the foremost expert on the power of the Items, regardless of whether or not he had renounced that power – and that was something requiring iron-clad will and cold reservation, traits that both his son and nephew needed to more time to master.

When Mahad trailed off, having exhausted his theory, they all looked to Akhenadin expectantly. Unfazed, he took a moment to organise his thoughts.

"It is an interesting theory and not without its merits," he said finally. "The Ring had indeed exhibited such abilities in the past. But the likelihood of the Thief being able to utilise the Ring to its full potential in such a short amount of time is exceedingly low."

"His prowess with it in the final battle was considerable, however," Atem replied. "He demonstrated a level of ability on par with Mahad's utilisation as the Keeper of the Ring in that brief time. It would raise the likelihood much higher."

"That is also true," Akhenadin conceded. "Perhaps, by being from the cursed village, he had access to the secrets of the power of the Items that proved advantageous even without the years of training."

He picked up a stone carving in the shape of a pyramid and turned it about between his hands, eyes focused. After another long moment, he stopped spinning the carving about and instead held it up in front of Mahad.

"Unlike the Scales, which fuses two _Ka_ creatures together – as it has done several times with many of your own creatures – the Ring seems to have the ability to transplant _Ba _and _Ka_ into others, including inanimate objects. That is how Mahad was able to transfuse his _Ba_ into the Illusion Magician."

"So you are saying that Bakura may have used this power to seal himself within the Ring to survive his own defeat?" Atem asked in a hushed voice.

"No, not the Ring," Mahad disagreed, resting a hand upon it. "I would have felt his presence if it were so. But there must be something – or some_one _– to whom he transferred part of himself into."

"And now they are here," Seth finished for him. "But who?"

Silence was the only answer.

* * *

A/N: Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. I actually had chapter four almost completely finished when I decided that it needed more development before I got to the events that I had already written - so I started a new chapter from scratch. The story now makes more sense (to me, you'll never know which is the original chapter four!) and the developments should be smoother. Enjoy and feel free to review!


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